


Apocalypse averted

by Kyrian_Winchester



Series: Apocalypse averted [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Good Older Sibling Gabriel (Supernatural), Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Gabriel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyrian_Winchester/pseuds/Kyrian_Winchester
Summary: DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED.Saving the Righteous Man from Hell has consequences when Castiel stops him from breaking the first seal.
Series: Apocalypse averted [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164929
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, leader of his garrison, flew as fast as his wings could take him through hell. His blade cut through demons like putty as they came at him from all directions. He kept an eye on the rest of his garrison, making sure none of them got too badly injured as he searched for the reason they were all here. 

  
Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, could not be allowed to spill blood in Hell. 

  
Castiel flew passed two demons, deeper into Hell, before seeing what he came for. Another demon, one stronger than the cannon fodder they’d been fighting so far, was in front of the tortured soul, releasing it from the chains holding it to the rack. Castiel flew faster than he had in a very long time as Dean reached forward to accept the knife, another damned soul already hanging from the racks.   
Both demon and soul flinched as he approached with the force of a comet falling to earth. The demon – Alastair – was flung a few meters away and Dean stayed where he was, staring. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close before flying up, straight out of Hell and to the surface, others in his garrison guarding his back. 

  
Rebuilding the physical form didn’t take long, only an hour before it was ready to receive the soul he carried with him. Just as Castiel was placing the soul back where it belonged, the voice of his superior summoned him home. Looking at the disturbed earth once more, he flew off to report to Zachariah. 

Dean Winchester finally breathed in a desperate breath of fresh air before pulling himself up out of the ground. Looking around showed nothing but devastated trees around where he had apparently been buried. He started walking, knowing he’d get to civilization eventually and be able to contact Sam and Bobby. 

2 hours later, Dean saw a gas station and took off his shirt, smashing in the window with a simple plan. 

  
Water. 

  
Food.

  
Money.

  
Then he’d have to find a payphone somewhere around here. The first thing he saw was a newspaper with the date August 18. A few minutes later, he grabbed a bag, filling it with water and energy bars and started heading for the cash register before something caught his eye. Turning back, Dean flipped through the latest issue of ‘Busty Asian Beauties' with a smirk before adding it, then going to the register and taking all the money. 

  
‘ _Whoever is working tomorrow is getting a shock_ ,’ he thought as he grabbed it, looking up to check no one was coming, feeling like something was wrong. Nothing. No one anywhere near, but Dean still hurried and left the station. He saw a payphone across the street, and rushed over, his first thought as always, being to call Sam. 

  
_“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected_.” Even more worried now about his brother, Dean hung up before dialing another number. Unlike the last, this one was answered almost immediately. 

  
_“Yeah?”_

  
“Bobby?” he said relieved to hear his voice. 

  
_“Yeah?”_

  
“It’s me.”

  
_“Who’s ‘me’?”_

  
“Dean.” He’d definitely expected the dial tone from Bobby hanging up. He would be more worried if Bobby had believed him immediately. Dean hung up the receiver before dialing again.

  
_“Who is this?”_ the older man interrogated, sounding pissed. 

  
“Bobby, listen to me-“

  
“ _This ain’t funny. Call again, I’ll kill ya.”_

  
Dean decided not to push his luck, hanging up the receiver before going to find a car to hotwire. He’d just have to convince him face to face. 

Driving for 9 hours after digging out of your own grave then immediately being attacked by someone you consider a father figure is not fun, Dean can now say from experience. But now that Dean’s convinced Bobby – mostly – that he’s alive and himself, they can focus on finding Sam. 

  
“How’d you know he’d use that name?”

  
“Are you kidding?” Dean asked, bringing up the website that would let him track Sam’s phone. “What don’t I know about this kid?” He looked around, noticing all the empty bottles. “What’s with the liquor store?”

  
“Like I said. Last few months ain’t been easy.” It wasn’t long before the app dinged and Dean wrote down the address. 

  
“Sam’s in Pontiac.”

  
“Right near where you were planted.”

Meeting up with Sam again would have been better without the fights and the awkward silence on the ride to visit one of Bobby’s psychic friends, not to mention the half naked girl who answered the door. The brothers got out of the impala and met Bobby by the door. 

  
“So, these must be the boys!” The woman who opened it seemed cheerful for someone involved in all this crap. 

  
“Sam, Dean, this is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state.”

  
“Hey.”

  
“Hi.”

  
“Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire back into the frying pan. Makes you a rare individual.”

  
“If you say so.”

  
“Come on in.” Pamela led the three of them into the house.

  
Bobby starts talking while the boys stood awkwardly to the side. “You hear anything?”

  
“I Ouija’d my way through a dozen spirits, none of them seem to know anything about who broke your boy out or why.” 

  
“So what’s next?” 

  
“Séance, I think. See if we can’t see who did the deed.”

  
“You’re not gonna summon the damn thing here?!” Bobby exclaimed, surprised. 

  
“Nope. I’m just gonna see if I can sneak a peek. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.”

  
“I’m game,” Dean said, happy just to be doing something. Pamela smiled and lead them through to a room with a small round table just big enough to seat then all and started getting everything ready. Dean watched as she crouched down, top riding up to show the tattoo on the small of her back. “Who’s Jesse?”

  
“Well, it wasn’t forever,” she said with a laugh, shaking her head as she stood with the necessary candles in hand. 

  
“His loss,” Dean flirted. 

  
“Might be your gain.” She winked as she walked passed. He watched her go with a silly grin on his face. “Dude, I am so _in!”_ Sam scoffed. 

  
“Yeah. She’s gonna eat you alive.”

  
“Hey, I just got out of jail, _bring it!”_ he replied enthusiastically, still watching the psychic. 

  
“You’re invited too, grumpy.” 

  
“You are _not_ invited!” 

  
A few minutes later, the four of them were seated at the table which now had six lit candles in the middle of the black table cloth. 

  
“Alright, everyone hold hands. I’ll need to touch something our mystery monster touched.” Dean jumped as her hand landed on his inner thigh. 

  
“Woah. Well he didn’t touch me _there.”_ He ignored Sam’s smirk in his direction. 

  
“My bad,” she said with a laugh. Dean sighed as he looked around the table before pulling up the sleeve on his left arm to reveal a bright red hand print just below the shoulder. Pamela looked serious now, placing her right hand directly on it. “OK.” The three men watched silently as she began chanting. 

  
_“I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle._  
_I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle._  
_I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle.”_

  
The hunters looked around, slightly worried as static started building. Something was definitely happening now. 

  
_“I invoke, conjure and command – Castiel? Sorry Castiel, I don’t scare that easy._  
_I conjure and command you, show me your face._  
_I conjure and command you, show me your face._

_Show me your face, now_!” Her eyes shot open. They stared horrified for a second as she screamed, flames shooting out from her eyes before they moved, breaking the circle. Pamela collapsed into Bobby’s arms as he shouted for them to call 911. 

A few hours later, Sam and Dean sat at a table in the nearest diner. Dean placed their order whilst Sam finished talking to Bobby. 

  
“What did Bobby say?” 

  
“Pam’s stable and out of the I.C.U.” Sam replied, putting his phone back in his pocket.

  
“And _blind_ because of us,” Dean said, pissed. 

  
“And we still have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

  
“That’s not exactly true,” the older brother said, focusing on what they had learned. “We have it’s name. Castiel. With the right mumbo jumbo, we could summon him, bring him right to us.“

  
“Are you insane?!” Sam exclaimed. “Absolutely not!”

  
“We’ll work him over. After what he did?” 

  
“Pamela took one peek at this thing and her eyes _burned out of her skull_! And you want to have a face to face?!” 

  
“Have you got a better idea?”

  
“Yes! As a matter of fact, I do! I followed some demons into town, right?” Sam said, reminding Dean of what he said after the girl – Christie or something – left. “So let’s find them! Someone’s got to know something!”

  
The waitress, a young woman with short brown hair, a came over with their pie, set it down on the table, then took the seat between them. The boys looked at her wondering why she was still there. 

  
“You waiting for tips?”

  
“Oh, I’m sorry. Thought you were looking for us.” The woman’s eyes flashed black as she smirked, Sam immediately going to pull the demon killing knife out of his pocket. Dean stopped him as another demon goes and looks the door. 

  
“So, Dean. To Hell and back. Aren’t you a lucky duck,” the demon said, not even bothering to try to disguise the bitterness in her tone. 

  
“That’s me,” Dean replied, keeping sight of the other demons behind her. 

  
“So you just get to stroll right on out of Hell, huh? What makes you so special?”

  
“I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples,” he said with a fake smile before it fell and he became serious. “I don’t know. Wasn’t my doing.”

  
“Sure,” she scoffed. “You don’t know.”

  
“I don’t.”

  
“Lying is a sin you know.”

  
“I’m not lying. But, I’d like to find out, so if you don’t mind enlightening me, Flo,” he said, leaning towards her slightly. 

  
“Mind your tone with me boy. I’ll drag you back to Hell myself.” 

  
“No you won’t,” Dean said, lifting a hand to stop Sam from attacking. “Because if you were, you would have done it already. Fact is, you don’t know who cut me loose. You’re as spooked as we are and you’re looking for answers. Well maybe, it was some turbo charged spirit. Or Godzilla, huh? Or some big bad boss demon.” The demons were silent. “See, at your pay grade, I’m guessing they don’t tell you squat. Whoever it is, they want me out and they’re a lot stronger than you. So go ahead, send me back. But don’t come crawling to me when they show up on your doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.”

  
“I’m going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs,” the demon threatened, not liking that Dean could see through her act. Dean leaned further towards her, before lashing out and slapping her so hard her head snapped to the side. She glared at him, but did nothing. He snorted before standing. 

  
“That’s what I thought. Come on Sam.” Sam grit his teeth, but stood and followed his brother. 

  
“We’re really going to let them live?!”

  
“Yeah, there’s three of them, maybe more, and we’ve only got one knife between us.”

  
“I’ve been killing a lot more demons than that lately, Dean.”

  
“Well not anymore, Sammy. Smarter brother’s back in town.”

A few hours later, something woke Dean from his nap in the motel room, interrupting his four hours. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Dean looked around the room for whatever had disturbed him. Looking at Sam’s bed, he realized it was probably his brother leaving the room for something, but it wouldn’t hurt to be too careful. He picked up his shotgun from by the bed, making sure it was loaded. Double checking the room was clear, he headed over to the door, opening it quietly, only to see Bobby on the other side of it. 

  
“Bobby,” he sighed, relieved. The old hunter eyed him worriedly. 

  
“You alright boy?” Dean nodded, putting the shotgun down by his side. 

  
“How’s Pamela?” 

  
“She’ll live. Where’s your brother?” 

  
“Woke up and he was gone. Come on, I’ll call him on the way.” He grabbed his bag while Bobby looked confused. 

  
“On the way?” 

  
The two hunters made their way over to Bobby’s car, Dean scowling and muttering under his breath when he realized Sam had taken his baby. 

  
“Better not douche her up again. Freakin' ‘iPod jack.’” He got in the passenger seat, taking out his phone and speed dialing Sam as Bobby started the car.

  
_“Yeah?”_

  
“Where are you?” 

  
“ _Couldn’t sleep, went to get a burger.”_

  
_Sure._

  
“In my car?”

  
“ _Force of habit, sorry_ ,” Sam replied flippantly. “ _What are you doing up_?”

  
“Bobby and I are grabbing a beer.” He waved off Bobby’s shocked look as he lied to Sam. 

  
“ _Alright, well, uh, spill some for me will you?”_

  
“Done, catch up later.” Dean hung up, sliding his phone back in his pocket, waiting for the inevitable questions. 

  
“Why the Hell didn’t you tell him?”

  
“Because he’d just try to stop us.”

  
“Stop us from _what?”_

  
“Summoning this thing.”

  
_“W_ _hat?!_ You can’t be serious!”

  
“As a heart attack. It’s high noon baby.”

  
“We don’t know what it is! Could be a demon, could be _anything.”_

  
“That’s why we’ll be _ready_ for anything,” he said, pulling out the knife from inside his jacket to show Bobby. “Got the big time demon killing knife, you’ve got an arsenal in the trunk.”

  
“This is a bad idea.”

  
“What choice do we have?” 

  
“We could choose _life.”_

  
“Bobby, this thing has already hurt Pamela, it could come after any one of us or our friends next. We’ve got nowhere to hide. We need to make our stand.”

  
“We could use Sam on this.”

  
“He’s better off where he is.” 

  
Half an hour later, they reached an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere and Bobby lay every trap he knew whilst Dean sorted the weapons. A couple of hours later, everything was ready. 

  
“This is still a bad idea,” Bobby warned him, standing in front of a bowl and the ingredients for the summoning ritual. 

  
“Yeah, I heard you the first 10 times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?” Bobby started chanting. 

Castiel could feel it as his Grace was viciously torn to shreds, could hear nothing but his own tortured screams through the pain. It felt like a million heated knifes shredding him from the inside, like burning in Holy Oil, like being ripped apart piece by tiny piece.   
A distant part of him recognized the sound of a door opening and voices before the pain abated, leaving him to realize that he was now alone. Castiel shuddered and curled in on himself, grateful for the small reprieve even with the pain still coursing through him. He didn’t understand why he was being punished. He had done what he had ordered, done his Father’s will. He had saved the Righteous Man before he could spill blood, averted the apocalypse, so why was this happening to _him?_

  
It was then that Castiel noticed that someone was trying to call to him. Focusing on that, he figured out what was happening. 

  
“ … _command you, appear unto me before this circle.”_

  
Dean. He was trying to use a psychic to figure out who had rescued him from Hell. 

  
_“I invoke, conjure and command-“_

  
_“My name is Castiel. Turn back now.”_

  
_“Castiel? No, sorry Castiel, I don’t scare that easy.”_ He had tried to warn her, but the psychic kept pushing. This would most likely not end well. Seeing his True Form was not something a human could withstand without damage _. “I conjure and command you, show me your face.”_ Castiel could tell immediately when the woman caught a glimpse of him, the screams reverberating through his mind before the link broke.

  
It wasn’t long later that Zachariah returned, eager to continue his punishment. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been there with his superior, but it was long enough that he could feel his true form breaking down, starting to disintegrate like a vessel not strong enough to contain an Angel’s power. Zachariah seemed thrilled with the fact, practically humming with glee. 

  
A whisper reached out to him and for a minute, Castiel didn’t understand what was happening before he recognized it. A way out. Someone was summoning him. He also saw the moment Zachariah heard it. The glee vanished, replaced by fury as Castiel let himself be taken by the summoning. The younger Angel let out one last scream as Zachariah wrenched and something broke free before he disappeared. 


	2. Chapter 2

Pain was all Castiel could feel, blinding his senses. His Grace – what was left of it at least – flared, trying to heal whatever damage had been done to him, but with the state it was in having been torn apart for Father knows how long, it was barely keeping him alive. As it was, he felt small and diminished, as if he was somehow lesser than he was. A blurred shape entered his vision and Castiel tried to focus on it, simultaneously trying to move away. Attempting movement was not a good idea, he realized as a fresh wave of pain racked him. The blur moving too was all he could see as his vision faded. 

They didn’t have to wait long, only 10 minutes passed after Bobby’s summoning before the old building started shaking. The hunters shared a look.   
“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind?” Dean suggested as they both got their shotguns ready. The bulbs flashed and sparked, taking the majority of their light, before the roof suddenly collapsed inwards. Dean raised his arm to shield his face, not putting it down until the crashing stopped. He squinted through the dust as it settled before sharing another look with Bobby and raising the shotgun again, pointing it at the pile of rubble. Dean advanced cautiously, steps slow and steady, Bobby a few feet to his left.   
“What the hell?”   
In the middle of the broken smoldering pile of wood was a man who looked like he might be just shorter than him with messy black hair and tanned skin, but it wasn’t the human appearance that startled him. Multiple cuts and abrasions covered him from head to toe. There was a wide gash on his forehead, blood pouring from the wound and plastering his hair to his forehead, another one down the left side of his chest, which was covered in bruises, showing he probably had a few broken or fractured ribs. His right leg was twisted round the wrong way and he had a feeling that the thing poking from his arm was bone. Dean figured he probably had more wounds on his back too.   
_This_ was Castiel?   
Uber powerful boss demon that pulled him out of Hell?   
The two hunters looked down at the injured demon before sharing a look.   
“What…”  
“Should probably do something,” Bobby said after a few minutes.   
“What?!” Dean questioned. “Get up close so he can kill me?” Bobby gave him a look.   
“Thing dragged you out of the pit, doubt he’s desperate for ya to get back in. ‘sides, the guys broken up and buckass nude, not to mention _unconscious,_ so it ain’t like he can do a whole lotta damage.” Dean sighed before both of them got closer. Green eyes took in the damage. It didn’t look like it was healing, but the thing wasn’t dead from his injuries, so it definitely wasn’t human. He looked at the meatsuits face to study the head injury more.   
_Blue._   
Very very blue eyes met his, not seeming to see him at all. He crouched down next to the demon, Bobby on the opposite side. The eyes suddenly focused on him and Dean see him trying to move. A high pitched whine left his throat and Dean shifted, not knowing what to do as the demon apparently lost consciousness again. He looked at Bobby.   
Usually, you find someone like this, you call an ambulance or help them yourself, but this was a _demon._ They weren’t exactly in the business of _helping_ them.   
“I’ll lay something down in the back of the truck,” Bobby decided. “You find a way to carry him out.”  
“So you think we should help him?”   
“Usually, demon, I’d say finish him off, but… This is the demon that pulled you from _Hell,_ and he looks like _roadkill._ That means something worse disagrees with what he did and who knows if they’ll come after you. We need answers and this thing ain’t givin' them right now.” Dean nodded once and Bobby stood, going back out to the truck. The younger hunter looked down. Bobby was right. Something that could do this to something this powerful?   
Not good news. 

Eventually, they did manage to maneuver ‘Castiel' into the car and into the motel room without further agitating any injuries. They lay him out on one of the beds and Dean sighed and stretched.   
“Jeez, how much does this guy _weigh?”_  
“Quit ya belly achin' boy,it ain’t like you were carrying him alone. And get me some water, towels, whisky and whatever you’ve got for suturing. It don’t look like these are healing at all.”   
“Sammy still isn’t back,” Dean commented, brow furrowed with worry as he got what Bobby demanded. “I’m gonna call him.”  
He stepped over to the corner of the room to give Bobby some space, dialing Sam’s number.   
“ _This is Sam Winchester, leave a message_.” Dean scowled.   
“Damn it Sammy, you’ve been out ‘having a burger' for the past _3 hours_. Answer your phone.” He was about to hang up the phone before realizing he needed to add something. “And get me some pie.” Bobby gave him a look as he hung up. “What?! I haven’t had any in 3 months! It’s a _travesty!”_ Bobby snorted before turning back to his patient. 

Half an hour later, Bobby and Dean had treated the injuries they could see as best they could.   
“We’re going to have to keep an eye on him. Those injuries haven’t healed any in the past few hours and we can’t do anything for that arm. He doesn’t get any better soon, we’re gonna have to take him to a hospital.”  
“Taking a demon to a hospital,” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Now I’ve heard everything.”   
“Actually, I –“   
Whatever the older hunter was about to say was interrupted when the door clicked open to allow a moose in. Sam stopped with a deer in the headlights look on his face as he realized both of them were standing staring at him.  
“Umm. .. Hi?”  
“ _Hi?! HI?!_ It’s been hours! Where were you?!” Sam gave him a bitch face as he walked further into the room.   
“I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time, Dean. I can look after myself.”  
“Oh, yeah, great. So you wander off in the middle of the night for hours and I’m not allowed to worry?” Sam was about to respond when he caught sight of the figure on the bed.   
“Uh, who’s that?”  
“Not important. Where were you.”  
“I was _busy._ And your ‘friend’ looks like Hell.” Something clicked in his mind and he stared at them incredulously. _“Seriously?!_ You went and _summoned Castiel?!”_   
“I told you we should.”  
“We agreed –“   
“No, you _said_ that we should interrogate the demons instead. You _said_ that summoning Castiel was a bad idea. We did not _agree_ on _anything.”_ Sam turned to look at Bobby.   
“You didn’t try to _stop_ him?!” Bobby scoffed.   
“Don't take that tone with me, boy. Have _you_ ever tried stopping a Winchester on a warpath? The two of you idjits need to stop arguing over this. It’s done. He’s _summoned. Get over it_. We got bigger problems.”  
“Like _what?”_   
“Like whatever got him before us.” Sam seemed to get it together and started actually looking, noticing the injuries for the first time.   
“What _did_ do it? What _could?”_  
“We don’t know yet,” Dean answered, still looking at his brother suspiciously. “That’s why we’re waiting for him to wake up. We’re thinking something more powerful doesn’t like the fact that I’m out.”  
“If his boss doesn’t want you out, then, why’d he do it?” Dean shrugged, drinking from the bottle of whiskey Bobby had put aside after stitching up Castiel’s wounds.   
“Well… Why isn’t he healing?”   
“We don’t know that yet either. There’s a _lot_ we don’t know, and the only one with answers is currently knocked out on your bed.” He smirked slightly at the bitchface his brother threw his way. Their attention was brought back to the man on the bed as he started waking up. 

The next time Castiel woke, it was to a cream colored ceiling and something covering him. He still registered the pain thrumming through him, but it seemed like he had started healing. Voices came from somewhere to the side and he started trying to move. No good could come of voices anywhere near him at the moment.   
Moving, it seemed, was still a bad idea.   
The owners of the voices came fully into his vision. Humans. Absently, he realized that the two of them should be burning from laying eye on his true form, but mostly he was confused by the fact that he could barely see a hint of their souls in their physical forms. As an Angel or the Lord, the human soul should be blindingly obvious to him, not a barely shining hint behind the green eyes of the man to his left and the hazel of the taller man next to him. He squinted, ignoring the pain trying to focus caused.   
Another man came up next to the first one, one he now recognized to be the soul he raised from perdition, slipping him something he couldn’t quit see until it was brought directly into his vision. An old demon killing knife.   
Useful, but he didn’t know why the humans thought it would help them in this situation.   
“Hello, Dean.” The words _hurt._ Why did even _speaking_ hurt? Castiel lifted his head forward, trying to see more than the ceiling and three heads.   
“How’d you know who I am?”   
“I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. It wouldn’t make sense not to know who you are,” he said, looking down at what apparently was _himself,_ but definitely _not,_ because he definitely did not have a human vessel yet. Jimmy Novak was still waiting in his home in Pontiac with his wife and child, but the body he was looking at showed wounds concurrent with the pains he could feel. He lifted the right arm which seemed mostly uninjured except for a few cuts and turned the hand, flexing his fingers. His head tilted as he watched it move.   
“Yeah, great,” Dean scoffed. _“Why?”_  
“Why?”  
“Why would some demon pull me out of Hell?” Castiel looked up at him.   
_They thought he was a demon?_  
That was just insulting.   
“I am not a demon, Dean. I am an Angel of the Lord.” The reactions varied. The taller one who he now recognized as the boy with the demon blood, seemed speechless, eyes wide and mouth gaping. The oldest, Bobby Singer, raised a brow and crossed his arms, and Dean just scoffed, shaking his head.   
“There’s no such thing.” Castiel had planned on having this conversation in private, but his grace was still struggling to heal him, let alone allow him to render the other two hunters unconscious. This would have to do.   
“That’s your problem, Dean. You have no faith.”   
“Some _Angel_ you are. You burned that poor woman’s eyes out!”  
“I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be… overwhelming to humans, as can my true voice.”   
“So how can we see you now?” Sam questioned. “You just look… normal.” Castiel was silent for a moment. He had wondered to same thing.   
“I… am unsure. This form is not how I am supposed to be. If things had gone to plan, I would have met Dean in my vessel, but things were… out of my control.”  
“Your _vessel?”_  
“An Angel must gain permission from a human to use them in order to walk the earth. My true form would –“   
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted. “But this isn’t a vessel?”  
“No. I don’t know what this is.”  
“And why would an ‘Angel’ pull me from the pit, huh?”  
“Good things do happen, Dean.” Castiel told him, putting his arm down to look at him.   
“What’s the matter?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You don’t believe you deserve to be saved?”  
“Why’d you do it?”  
“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”   
“If ‘God' commanded me saved, why exactly is one the who saved me laid out practically dead on a motel bed on earth?” Castiel remembered wondering why he was being punished, remembered thinking he had done as his Father asked, but he still had no answer. He hadn’t exactly been in a state to question Zachariah for his motives. 

_Because we have work for you._  
Dean scoffed before waving an arm at him.   
“If ‘God' commanded me saved, why exactly, is the one who saved me laid out practically dead on a motel bed on earth?”   
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Sam stated before Castiel could answer. Both Bobby and Dean turned to look at him.   
“How?!”  
“Because for once, maybe this isn’t another round of demon crap! Maybe, for once, we were helped out by the good guys.”  
“Do you need to take another look at the so called Angel on your bed, Sammy? Cause I don’t think that’s a _good_ thing.”  
“Then we head back to Bobby’s,” he said. “Do some research.”  
“We’re gonna move him looking like _that?!”_ Bobby interrupted before it could become another argument.   
“Get your bags packed and get him some clothes. Dean’s will have to do for now. We need more answers. None of my books mentioned any demons being able to raise someone from Hell, but whether or not he’s an Angel? I’ll need to keep digging.” Dean looked between the two, realizing he was out voted.   
“Fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck: You'd think I'd be a writer if I was psychic? Writing is HARD.   
> Me: I know, right? 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the bookmarks and subscriptions and comment, I'm glad you liked it. It brings such joy to my heart. Here's the next chapter. It's a bit shorter than the other two, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :)
> 
> Also, has anyone else ever had auto-correct try and change Chuck to chicken...? Or does my auto-correct hate me? Oh well. I'll live. 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter :)
> 
> \- KW

Ruby wasn’t an idiot. She’d heard that the Angel had saved Dean Winchester before he could break. Lucifer wasn’t getting free, not in this century. She should be long gone, should’ve left as soon as she heard. But she was still _turning Sam Winchester_. There was no way she could possibly abandon this now. Even if Lucifer wouldn’t take his vessel, the Boy King could still rule. 

Michael was furious. His Father’s plan _ruined_ by some upstart. A mere _soldier_ from the Garrisons. And then, the traitor goes and _disappears_ in the middle of Zachariah’s punishments. The plan was now delayed by several centuries. They were supposed to fight on the chosen battlefield. He was supposed to kill his brother. Now he had to wait more. He just wanted this to be over. 

Gabriel was well aware that sometime in the next year, the world was going to go boom. Mikey and Luci would duke it out on the battlefield, one might walk away, they both might die and human deaths would be in the billions. An Angels paradise, from what he could remember Raphael saying. Dean Winchester had gone to Hell for his brother and eventually he would break. The seals would break not long after, and though those muttonheads would probably take some convincing, they would say yes and the fight would begin. He didn’t know about the stuck up prudish dickbags he called family, but personally _he_ was going to enjoy this while it lasted. Gabriel choked on his drink as a voice came across ‘Angel radio' as he liked to call it. 

  
“ _Dean Winchester is saved_.” Gabriel gaped for a few seconds before he let out a startled laugh.

  
“Oh, _Castiel,”_ he said, a glint in honey colored eyes, “you little _rebel.”_

Chuck Shurley stared at what he had just written. No no no no no. _This_ was _not_ supposed to happen. Castiel was supposed to OK be too late, how in the name of… well, _himself_ did the Angel get there early? This was not part of the plan. 

It took a while to get everything ready, mostly because his wounds kept stopping Castiel as he was dressing. He’d had to put his arm in a sling, much to his displeasure, because it was definitely broken, and he kept trying to move it. The drive back to Sioux Falls was no better. A few minutes after Bobby started driving, he’d had to threaten to tie him up, duct tape him to the seat and seal his mouth shut if he didn’t stop asking why they were taking so long with a 12 hour drive. After that, Castiel had curled in on himself slightly, a strange feeling in his chest, before the Angel fell asleep. 

  
Why Bobby had to drive with an injured Angel in the backseat, he had no idea, but next time, the boys could take him. 

  
After getting back to Sioux Falls, he had Sam and Dean carry the Angel into the panic room he’d built a few months back during a free weekend and was now sitting in his study area listening to the brothers have the same argument. 

  
“If you two chuckleheads are done arguing religion,” Bobby interrupted. “I’ve found something.” The boys turned towards him. “I got a ton of lore, biblical, prebiblical, some of its in damn _cuneiform._ All of it says an Angel can pull a soul from the pit.” 

  
“What else?” Dean demanded, crossing his arms. 

  
“What else _what?”_

  
“What else can do it?”

  
“Airlift your ass from the hotbox?” Bobby scoffed. “Far as I can tell, nothing.”

  
“OK, so say it’s true. Say there’s Angels, say that we’ve got one healing downstairs in Bobby’s panic room, then what? There’s a _God?!”_

  
“This point, Vegas money’s on yeah.” Bobby sat back, watching his boys. Sam, he knew, would be OK with all these revelations, Dean, on the other hand… He’d known that kid most of his life, of course he knew Dean would have trouble believing _God_ would order him saved, doubly so when the Angel that saved him was, as Dean said, healing from his injuries in his panic room. 

  
“I don’t know about this, guys.”

  
“Look,” Sam started, “I know you’re not all _choirboy_ about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about _faith_ and more and more about _proof.”_

  
_“Proof?”_

  
“Yes!”

  
“Proof that there’s a God who actually gives a crap about me personally? I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it,” he said, shaking his head.   
“Because why me? Of all the people who need saving, if there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about _me?!”_

  
“Dean –“

  
“I mean, I’ve saved a few people. I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I’m just a regular guy.”

  
“Well apparently, you’re a regular guy who’s important to the man upstairs.” Bobby made a face. That wasn’t going to make things any better. 

  
“Well that freaks me out man, OK? I don’t even like being singled out at _birthday parties,_ let alone by _God.”_

  
“Well that’s too bad, Dean, ‘cause I think he wants you to strap on your party hat.”

  
“Well then, what about Castiel?” Dean questioned. “Because somehow, I don’t think God would have done that if he wanted me out, so go ahead. Explain that.”

When Castiel woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the pain had finally dulled to where he could barely notice it. The second was that he was in a circular room with the taste of iron and salt heavy on his tongue. Presumably what the walls were made of. He had to hand it to them, the idea was a good one. No demon would be able to get in or out with the door shut, especially considering the devils traps on the floor and making up the ceiling. He forced himself into a seated position and tilted his head at the image of a mostly naked woman hanging on the wall, eyes narrowed. Why such an image was necessary, he had no idea. There was also a desk nearby and an empty weapons rack. Obviously, they didn’t trust him. 

  
Castiel got to his feet, stumbling slightly, before heading over to the door. It was locked from the outside, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. He concentrated on the door, trying to move the mechanism but all that got him was a pounding head and a stubbornly locked door. The Angel scowled before going back over to the bed, back aching from the injuries that still hadn’t healed yet. He’d just wait here then, for the humans to return. He needed to check on his wings anyway. 

  
Bringing them into the physical world took a lot more effort and caused a great deal more pain than he thought he would. He gasped for breath before finally taking a look. 

  
Once beautiful ebony wings stretched out on either side, now a ghastly sight. The left wing was broken in five different places, the right in three. Fractures were clearly visible in some places. Several feathers were broken whole areas completely bare. Blood matted patches of the remaining few together having dried that way over the passed day. Or days, he couldn’t tell. 

  
Castiel sniffed, a rather large lump in his throat, suddenly aware his cheeks were wet. He touched his face, pulling his hand away to see water. He took a few deeper breaths, trying to calm himself down. 

  
“Father,” his voice came out a hoarse whisper before he could stop it. “Father, I don’t understand. I did everything they said you asked. I saved Dean Winchester. The apocalypse is delayed by at least a few thousand years. Why was I punished?” Silence. The familiar feeling of rage bubbled up in his chest, a million times more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. Rage that he usually only felt towards those who worked against his Father, usually higher level demons, now aimed at one being. “WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!” Rage abated into something shame. God had a plan, He always did. Castiel just didn’t understand it. No one could. “Don’t ignore me, please, not now. Please. Father. Give me strength. Give me _faith.”_

  
The door opened a few seconds later. Castiel didn’t bother trying to put his wings away, knowing he’d probably end up keeling over anyways. The oldest hunter, Bobby Singer, came into the room, eyes flickering over his wings. Castiel just pulled them closer to himself. 

  
“I don’t know why they did this.”

  
“Yeah, I heard." They were both silent for a minute. "So let’s start with _who.”_

  
Castiel considered keeping the information to himself, but he doubted that would gain him any favors. 

  
“My superior, Zachariah.” Dean and Sam entered the room too at that point, Dean carrying a plate of pie, shielding it from Sam and glaring at him. “I was called to report after rescuing Dean. I… I don’t know why he…” 

  
“I do,” came a voice familiar to the Winchesters. The brothers and Bobby spun around, the boys pointing guns at a short man with honey colored eyes, a candy bar in his hand as he watched them with a smirk. 

  
“What are you doing here?” Sam, demanded scowling angrily. “What do you know about this?” 

  
“What? Can’t a guy just visit his brother when he’s down?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, smirk firmly in place despite all the weapons aimed at his face. 

  
“Brother?”

  
 _“Gabriel?”_

  
“Hey there, Cassie.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first actual attempt at writing Gabriel, so it's probably a bit off, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.   
> Thank you for all the kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions and the one comment, it brings such joy to know that you're enjoying this so far :)  
> -KW

_"Gabriel?_ As in the _Archangel_ Gabriel?!” Sam questioned incredulously. Gabriel just smirked at him before brushing passed the hunters to his brother. His eyes wandered over his form, worry clear in them as he crouched down next to Castiel on the bed, carefully shifting his wing in order to not cause any unnecessary pain. Castiel kept a cautious eye on him. 

  
“No way,” Dean denied, shaking his head. “There’s no way _that_ is an Archangel.” Bobby cuffed him upside the head and Dean shot him a wounded look. “What?”

  
“Idjit,” Bobby scoffed, shaking his head, before turning back to the Angels. “You said you knew why the others did this.” 

  
“Yup,” Gabriel said simply, before conjuring a apricot flavored lollipop and basically forcing Castiel to eat it before starting to heal what he could. The younger Angel gave him a scowl that was half disgust at the taste and half ‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch?’ before taking it out, grimacing. “Eat it. Sugar helps.” 

  
“You gonna share with the rest of the class?”

  
“Sure. But I’m going to help my baby brother first. Much as I can, anyways.” The last bit was mumbled under his breath as he tried to maneuver Castiel’s wings into a more comfortable position. “You might as well wait upstairs. The wings will take a while.”

  
“Are you _kidding_ me? I’m not –“ A snap of Gabriel’s fingers and suddenly the hunters were back in Bobby’s study. “Son of a bitch!”

  
“Relax, Cassie. I’ll be done soon.” Castiel scowled at him. 

  
“I’m supposed to relax? Around you? You _abandoned_ us. You _left_ and we thought you were _dead.”_ Gabriel’s shoulders dropped. “Where were you?” Gabriel avoided looking directly at his eyes, instead conjuring water and a cloth, starting to wash off all the dried blood on his brother’s damaged wings. “ _Where were you?_ ” 

  
“Here, mostly,” Gabriel said. “Booze and babes, land of the free.” He tried for a smirk, but it fell at Castiel’s glare and he sighed. “Look, I know I abandoned you. But Mike and Luci… I couldn’t deal with the fighting. So I left. Pretended I was dead and went into my own private little witness protection program. It was better than listening to the two of them trying to kill each other.” The two Angels sat in silence, Gabriel working on his wings, washing away blood and pulling out broken feathers and healing what he could. There wasn’t much he could do for them, generally an Angel’s wing would have to be healed by their grace, so it would take a while given that Castiel’s was so damaged. Gabriel didn’t think his Grace would recover properly if at all, so his wings would be in quite the state for a while. 

  
Done with the wings, Gabriel clicked his fingers and the hunters were back in the room. Dean scowled at him and Gabriel just gave him a big grin. 

  
“Why did they do that to him?” Sam asked cutting straight to the point. Gabriel pouted. 

  
“What, no foreplay?” Sam gave him a bitchface, crossing his arms across his chest. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun Samsquatch.” He sighed before becoming serious. “What do you guys know about the Apocalypse?”

  
“Biblical end of days.”

  
“Yup. Well, _that_ happens to be a big ass fight between my brothers Michael and Lucifer –“

  
“Lucifer? That’s just a bed time story for demons, he’s not actually _real.”_ Gabriel rose an eyebrow, glaring at Dean. 

  
“Do you want the story or not?” Dean shut up. “That’s what I thought. So, Luci hated humans, bla bla bla, Michael throws him down to Hell and daddy dearest locks him up in a cage with 600 seals. Now a demon only has to break 66 of them and boom, Luci walks free, end of days begins, Hell shall reign, ya know, the usual fun stuff. And these seals can be broken in any order you like. _Except_ for 2. Lucky number 1 and lucky number 66. Those two are the important ones.”

  
“Why those two?”

  
“Getting to it, now shush, children. The first is the Righteous man spilling blood in Hell. Someone like – let’s say Dean – sells his soul for some goody goody reason like, oh, bringing a brother back to life, maybe, gets dragged down, tortured for a little while and then… he snaps. Says yes, because the pain is too much and starts torturing people himself.” Sam and Bobby look at Dean. Dean just looks straight ahead, avoiding their gazes. “There goes seal number 1. Without that seal, any others that are on the list can still happen but it wouldn’t count towards the grand finale, cage stays locked. _Castiel_ stopped that from happening. And now you could break _all_ the seals and _nothing_ would happen. Everything as it is now.”

  
“But wouldn’t they be happy about that?” Sam questioned, a confused look on his face.

  
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But, no. Because the other Angels? The ones higher up on the totem pole? They _want_ the Apocalypse to happen. That's why you only have to break 66 out of _600_.”

  
 _“What?”_ Gabriel turned back to his baby brother, the person who’d whispered that question into the silent panic room. “Why?! Why would they _want_ to destroy all this? The humans are our Father’s creation, they –“

  
“Well, yeah, _but,_ they’re also _flawed._ Petty and jealous and hateful and destructive –“ 

  
“And _good,”_ Castiel cut in. “I’ve seen them from Heaven and there’s good to them too.” Gabriel sighed, knowing he was right about there being good, but also seeing what the others saw. Death, destruction and mayhem all over the earth.

  
“The human Apocalypse would bring about the Angels paradise. That’s how they think of it. No humans to ruin our Father’s creations. That’s why Zachariah did what he did to you. That’s why they’ll probably send others to drag you back to Heaven kicking and screaming. And they’ll probably never stop. You saved him too early.” The five of them stayed silent for a while, three hunters thinking over what they’ve learned, the Archangel looking over his brother and the younger Angel mourning what he’d lost. 

“Do you believe him?” Sam asked him as he flopped down next to his brother on the couch. Dean looked up from his beer.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“Gabriel. Everything he said. Do you think he was telling the truth?” 

  
“About Angels being all gung-ho for the end of days?” he snorted. “Seems about par for the course with our lives.”

  
“Right.” Dean studied his brother’s dejected stance. Right. Sammy believed in the ‘goodness of Angels’ and ‘God has a plan’ and all that crap. He recalled the case when he’d told him he prayed every day and had for a very long time. 

  
“Are you OK?”

  
“I just… I mean… this is what I’ve been praying to? I thought they’d be… righteous. Merciful. You know –“

  
“Michael Langdon, not dicks.”

  
The brothers sat in near silence for a minute, the only sound being Bobby moving about in the next room. Dean took another swig of his beer. 

  
“Well. You know what they say. Never meet your heroes.” Sam looked at him for a second. 

  
“Yeah.”

Anna Milton restlessly tapped the end of her pencil on the desktop, trying to ignore the voices. She flinched slightly as they just got louder. 

  
“Anna? Are you OK?” 

  
They needed to be _quiet,_ she couldn’t _concentrate._ She shouldn't even be _hearing_ all this, she shouldn't be hearing Angels, but they won't _go away._

  
“Anna?” 

  
_Shut up, shut up, shut up, please, be quiet, I don’t want to hear it, please, shut up._

  
“Anna!?” Anna jumped as a hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up to see her friend Janine giving her a concerned look. “Are you OK?” 

  
“Yes. Yes I’m fine.” 

  
“Are you sure?”

  
Anna nodded her head, giving her a shaky smile. “I’m fine. Go. Have fun.” 

  
“Alright, but you’re missing out.” Anna watched her friend leave before turning back to her sketchbook. A single figure kneeled in chains in the middle of the page, damaged black wings stretched out on either side of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know in the series Dean got out of Hell on the 18th September, but I've set this to a month earlier because Castiel rescued him just before he could start torturing.  
> So this is my first multi chapter fanfic in about 6 years, probably a bit out of practice, but I hope you guys enjoy it and thanks for reading :)  
> \- KW


End file.
